


falling (asleep)

by miehczyslaw



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Brother/Sister Incest, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Non-Graphic Smut, POV First Person, non-graphic body horror but in a romantic way, tbh this is pure prose........ indulgent prose, the gore of Love and all that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 08:16:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21096305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miehczyslaw/pseuds/miehczyslaw
Summary: While I bite your bluebird-lips you ask me, in a whisper, then, “Would you dig into my stomach and caress my guts if I asked for it? Would you make a nest inside me and curl up there to survive the winter, brother?”





	falling (asleep)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deirdreh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deirdreh/gifts).

Your lungs are fractured pools where the water spills

and burns and

in itself sinks—

with a splash-splash.

X

I remember you taught me how to swim but in spite of everything

now you drown me,

with your butterfly kisses, those of twisted wings, pinned to rusty pins and adorned with bows. It turns out that I want to take them off to appease your grief but I fail in the attempt and only manage to prick my fingers.

Between vague apologies made of paper from you (because

“you are not him, he is not you, forgive me Ayato.”)

_Stop_.

Do you think, perhaps, that I don’t know it, foolish sister? I think you are genuinely sweet but lack in sincerity.

Secret, so

secret.

X

“You were always ashamed of me.”

And even so.

Even so, you always hid under my sheets every night, wrapping yourself around me, with the excuse that it was cold— even if it was summer and the heat was unbereable and the sun was eating the moon like a forbidden and juicy fruit, both hidden behind the clouds, as lovers.

(like us).

_But no more, no more, no more_.

Except there is more. Always.

Because we are hungry for carrion.

(God has turned his back on us and Lucifer is too busy to assist us. It’s all the same.)

You don’t have to be so distressed about it. Nor swallow your croaks or retract your claws.

Just stop mentioning it. _Stop rubbing it in my face_. Stop lying— to yourself. For once.

Is it too much to ask, damn it?

Tell me if you want me (dead or alive) and maybe

I could please you, for once in my miserable life.

Just a bit.

X

I would like to say that this is all

what I’ve ever dreamed

since I came into the world, honestly:

to inhabit you

to abandon myself and corrupt you in your sacred places and consecrate ourselves in that haunted house that you call soul

and to hate hatred while I tear you apart—

slowly, very slowly

—like a hangman who squeezes the rope on his victim’s neck and

with my spine full of thorns, never pins, and without bows.

X

My hands inside your black panties.

Your arched back.

“Enough, enough! stupid Ayato, you’re going to break me.”

Into the abyss.

Suddenly you scratch my back and arms,

and your bones shout in pagan language— _but you don’t feel any pain_, I take care of that.

Break you? Of course not. Foolish sister, who do you take me for?

(This is not mercy,

_I am not merciful_.)

X

While I bite your bluebird-lips you ask me, in a whisper, then, “Would you dig into my stomach and caress my guts if I asked for it? Would you make a nest inside me and curl up there to survive the winter, brother?”

And it makes me want to laugh. I run my teeth through your jugular, massacreing you, then.

Toying with your folds, one finger at a time.

I suck at music, I confess it.

However you become languid sighs, a beautiful melody, and I realize that, just maybe, I would rather genuinely hurt you right now and interrupt your concert.

Because I want you

(on your knees)

much more than _him_.

X

“I don’t care if you break my tongue,” I admit, after awhile. And you smile at me and turn your mouth against mine, with an almost obscene tenderness. The plastic stars of various colors in the sky as our only witnesses.

Sad, so

sad.

_This isn’t love_,

X

sweet sister, stupid sister.

Remember:

It’s your frantic breath against my broken heart, your sweat against my sweat and your snake skin, nonono, it doesn’t go like that right? your rabbit-bare skin (_redwhitesored_— too blue)

next to my skin.

Remember:

hands clasped, finding themselves lost.

But this is not—

Remember, remember, remember,

X

“_My Dearest_.”

Until rain turns into

blood

(“...please don’t kill me so early.”)


End file.
